“A truth seeker?”
The voice that called out seemed strange. She understood the words, but the inflection and accent were distinctly similar to the Iriani language Nyessovor used to command his robotic guards. It had to be the same, though why she could understand it was as elusive as the one who spoke to her. Ellie looked around, seeing no one. At least, not directly.
“Who are you?” she asked, turning her head around in several directions. Lights flashed and shifted in the corner of her eyes, but faded in her focus. Understanding the similarities between this and the path she discovered through the trees at the temple, Ellie turned away again. This time, she could have sworn she saw a familiar face.
“Pouns?” she asked, feeling somewhat silly, but there was no denying the shape of the luk.
“Outside our realm, we have taken familiar forms. In this place, we are without identity,” the voice said. As if to punctuate the vague non-answer, it seemed to come from everywhere and was as though many voices spoke at once. “But you…”
There was a deafening rush of sound, bright light, and crushing wind. Just as suddenly, Ellie found herself surrounded by the tangible being that was the light. She understood where she was. The crumbling façade was nothing more than an illusion. This was the true temple of the Order of the Sowers.
“Are you the Iriani?” she asked and was rewarded with a melodious chuckle, lighter than air, that spun away before turning back to contract in on her.
“A truth seeker you are, but knowledge you protect. You seek not the origins, but the darkness that unravels.”
An answer, it wasn’t, yet Ellie understood.
“I carry the Kyroibi,” she explained. “I keep within me the knowledge of my people. At least, that’s what I’ve been led to believe. In truth, I am a catalyst that would bring about the end of life. In a way, I guess I am the darkness that unravels. But I do not wish to undo all that the sowers of life have begun. I seek knowledge, hidden here by my predecessor. Knowledge that may be the key to ending what my misguided ancestors began.”
A wave rippled through the light, conveying a sense of sadness and apprehension that Ellie felt, despite not knowing how it was she could comprehend the being’s feelings.
“You wish to follow the trespasser. You want the path into the final darkness.”
“No,” she shook her head and tried to clarify. “I only want to find what was hidden here, by my grandmoth—”
“You seek the dark,” the voice cut off with insistence. “You wish to uncover that which has been hidden, but nothing can hide in a realm without shadow.”
“Okay, you’ve got a fair point,” Ellie acknowledged with a defeated shrug. The voice certainly didn’t lie. All around her, light permeated every corner of the expansive temple. Try as she might, Ellie could find no shadow.
Directly, at least.
Once again, only when she stopped looking did she find what she sought. A dark space manifested in her peripheral vision, devoid of both color and light. A portal, just like the one in the garden on T’al Eidyn. Turning upward her eyes, she took a cautious step forward. The darkness gave a feeling of ominous foreboding, especially in such a bright and calming place, but she wasn’t afraid. On the contrary, the void beckoned, inviting her closer with a comforting familiarity.
“Wait.”
A wall of light sprang up before her. Curiously, Ellie felt waves of concern emanating from the being as the energy once again surrounded her.
“You step willingly from the light into the finality of darkness, seeking the trail of the trespasser. Nothing hidden in darkness hides more than is revealed by the light. Let us show you what you seek.”
It was tempting. Ellie understood she was being offered an opportunity few, if any, had been given before. The Iriani, sowers of life, were willing to bestow upon her the true forbidden knowledge. The knowledge of life, marking her as a sower as well. She knew, not through the Kyroibi, but from something deeper within herself, that what they offered was the highest honor. To transcend completely and be gifted with the power to begin again what the Kyroibi was predestined to destroy.
It was tempting. More so than she would have ever thought. To let the end play out, knowing that all hope for the galaxy would not be lost, was a strong and logical argument. Her finger traced absently the smooth surface of her pulse dampener ring, giving her pause as her heart overrode her mind.
Julian.
But not just Julian. Bethany, Mikk, her parents, and everyone else she cared about would be lost if she accepted what the Iriani offered. Her decision was made. Truly, there was never any question in her mind. What good was bringing new life to the galaxy if those she loved were no longer in it? With her determination renewed, Ellie side-stepped the light.
“You are not of the dark,” it said in a final attempt to stop her.
“No,” Ellie replied, taking a step closer to the void and feeling the being of light shrink away from her. She turned, facing them one more time. “But neither am I of the light.”
With that, she stepped forward, again feeling the thrum of energy as she transcended realms once more.
Chapter 16
Julian stared unseeing at the door to the archive. Try as he might, he hadn’t been able to overcome the command that kept him barred from the room. El’iadryov’s words echoed in his head. To bring about an end to the battalion, that which was sacrificed needed to be returned. El’iadryov seemed to feel this had something to do with Julian, but surely, the former master was mistaken. Julian was an artificial construct, created without an abstraction, under the command of, but separate from the Kyroibi. He certainly could not be the supposed sacrifice, even if the broadest definition included him in Eidyssic-kind.
Perhaps El’iadryov only meant to rationalize what he should have seen as the futility of stopping the Limitless Battalion.
Which is far more likely, Julian thought as his spirits sank further. Ever since arriving on Ia’na Eidyn, doubt began creeping into his thoughts. His convictions were unwavering, but knowing that his plan had a chance of failure was maddening. El’iadryov’s objections were notable. It would have been easy to shrug them off as selfish, but Julian knew the former master’s concerns came from a place of logic. Yes, there was a margin of error, but it was negligible and there really was no other option besides the unthinkable.
With a sigh, he descended the stairs once again to wander the temple in hopes of guidance or inspiration. It had become something of a routine. El’iadryov spent most of his day meditating in the temple garden while Julian would walk the halls of the temple, familiarizing himself at long last with the world he stood silent watch over for millennia.
Again he felt a pang of sadness for all that would be lost. Each office, library, laboratory, or humble quarters stood as an undisturbed monument to the past. He knew his sentimentality was as artificial as his own creation. Eidyssic felt no such tether to preserve the past. All was replicated and restored on T’al Eidyn. His feelings clearly manifested from his brief stay on Earth and even briefer time spent getting to know El’iadrylline, not just as his true master, but as the beautiful being who gave him a measure of humanity when she gave him her love.
His steps hastened and he turned into the nearest laboratory just as the unwanted emotions began to overtake his thoughts. Thinking of Ellie and reminding himself of the love he hadn’t known himself capable of was counterproductive and would most certainly be his undoing if he allowed the indulgence. Instead, Julian turned his mind to the inconsequential, yet distracting task of discovering what the laboratory’s purpose had been.
The dark silver panels set into the walls and ceiling were curious. The room seemed not just darker, but also cooler than other laboratories in the same sector. His eyes landed on the schematics still spread across a drafting table. It seemed the panels were meant to keep out radiation from the Star of Eidyn for the purposes of experimenting with displacement core technology.
And it
just so happened that without the star’s radiation, hard light technology was useless. The whisper of a plan formed, shocking Julian with the depth of his own capability for deception. Tricking his former master into helplessness so that he could send him away and destroy the planet with a clear conscious would not only be a significant betrayal of El’iadryov’s trust, but leave a significant stain on his legacy as well.
And yet, was it not a price Julian was willing to pay? El’iadryov would still have the opportunity to see his ascension through at the T’al Kyri temple, but more importantly, he could resume the task he had come to complete. Destroy the battalion and end the suffering of his true master.
But just as quickly as it formed, Julian’s plan evaporated. El’iadryov had years to explore the temple. It was very likely he knew of this lab and what its purpose had been. Regardless, Julian was running out of time and options. Although, as he studied the shielding that kept out the star’s energy, he realized this was not the only room in which he’d seen such technology. He left, closing the door quietly behind him so as not to disturb the former master’s meditations, and descended the stairs to the ground floor.
A narrow stairway led down to a subterranean hangar where hundreds of ancient warships formed neat rows, ready to transport the battalion into war.
It was almost comical how incredibly outdated the ships were by comparison to the sleek vessels of the day. And yet, due largely to the same silica-based construction that preserved much of the planet, age was irrelevant. Should he or his master command it, these ships were entirely capable of bringing destructive finality to the galaxy.
Julian ignored the ships, pleased to note that unlike the battalion, they projected no need for further instructions from him. In fact, as he walked the length of the hangar, he found the draw of the battalion had momentarily subsided, thanks in part to the radiation shielding he had specifically come to inspect.
The shielding had been a practical measure. In the days when life flourished on Ia’na Eidyn, the cavernous underground area would have served as an emergency shelter for temple residents. The exterior exit, which led to a heavily shielded ravine in the mountains north of the temple had been retrofitted to accommodate the ships at a later time. It was this door that caught Julian’s attention as he held a small radiation detection device against the apparently seamless door. The device gave a soft pulse of light, indicating no energy present.
Satisfied that the mechanics of his plan would work, Julian set his mind to devising a scheme in which to get the former master into the hangar, but paused when another idea occurred to him.
He could destroy the ships.
After all, the battalion could not destroy the galaxy if they had no transportation. Immediately, he began searching out the most efficient method for bringing all of the ships offline, but as quickly as his spirits soared in victory, they came crashing back down in defeat. Disabling the ships would only create a temporary setback. There was an entire planet full of ships that were just as perfectly preserved. It would take the battalion less time to find enough ships and coordinate their attack on the galaxy than it would take Julian to find and destroy all remaining spacecraft.
His plan to send El’iadryov back to the Ghowrn system would have to go forward. At least now he had a method by which he could do so guilt free. Climbing the stairs to the temple summit, Julian again steeled his resolve and reminded himself that he was doing the right thing.
At the entrance to the gardens, he paused before stepping lightly onto the crushed stone ground cover so as to not jar the former master out of his meditation.
“Julian,” El’iadryov said as he stood. “I’m surprised to see you up here. It seemed you’ve been avoiding the gardens since our return.”
“Forgive me, El’iadryov. I only meant to give you a measure of privacy, however, I’ve made a discovery that may provide us a measure of security in putting to rest the battalion once and for all.”
El’iadryov said nothing, but raised his eyebrows and flashed curiosity across his diodes.
“I am making no claims as of yet,” Julian clarified. “But I would appreciate it if you would accompany me to the hangar. Your opinion would provide additional insight.”
“Lead the way.”
Julian led them back into the temple proper, down the main staircase, circumnavigating the parade floor and the pull of the battalion. He also took a cautious path, avoiding the engineering hall so as to raise no suspicions. When at last they came to the narrow stairwell that led to the underground hangar, Julian stepped aside, indicating El’iadryov should go first, but the former master paused.
“What’s down there?”
“The vessels intended for transport of the battalion,” Julian replied, keeping his tone neutral, but allowing a small measure of hopeful optimism to pulse briefly from his diodes. “It is my hope that you might help me work out a swift means by which we can disable the fleet without drawing the notice of the automatons.”
A similar flare of hope alit El’iadryov’s face before he schooled his expression.
“It seems like a long shot, but if it’s all we’ve got, I’m willing to do whatever we can,” he said and turned to descend the stairs. About halfway down, the lack of natural celestial radiation began to take effect and his substantiality began to fade. “Julian, it’s no use. I can’t go down there. Perhaps if I—”
Julian turned away as he pulled closed the heavily barricaded door, shutting out the last of the star’s light. The sound of the grounding stone falling to the floor echoed in the vast hangar. A noise Julian knew would stay with him for the rest of his days, however few in number they may be.
“I’m sorry, old friend,” he murmured as he carefully placed the grounding stone into a transporter container before tucking it safely into his pocket.
For a brief moment, he considered taking the stone to the acceleration chamber, but immediately chastised himself for such thoughts. Yes, El’iadryov came to Ia’na Eidyn specifically to free his root from the corrupted stone, but as he had not initiated the breakdown, Julian’s forcing the issue would be nothing short of another murder to hang over his head. He could not do that to Ellie.
Instead he carried the stone out to the flagship, secured it inside the console, and set an automated path back to T’al Eidyn with instructions to free the stone only once it returned to Ghowrn space. With a flash, the ship pulsed away. It would be nearly two days before his actions were discovered. By then, he, the battalion, and the legacy of Ia’na Eidyn would be no more.
He didn’t expect the crippling blow the reality of the situation served. Standing alone in what had once been the center of the greatest civilization in the galaxy, surrounded by all that his existence had stood to protect for thousands of years, Julian wept, his heart straining under the weight of what he had just done.
This was his path. He chose his sacrifice. The needs of the many outweighed the needs of the few. And yet, the empty ache that seemed to spread outward from his chest threatened to consume him in a cold fire. That he would never see his beloved again was a devastation he had grossly underestimated.
He allowed himself only a short minute of piteous indulgence. After all, the longer he waited, the longer Ellie lived in torturous uncertainty. It gave him a small measure of cold comfort knowing that the pain his death would cause her would be immediately buffered by the peace of mind that came with knowing that the future of their people was safe from the legacy of their past. Julian steeled his heart. It was time now to finally put an end to the fallacy of peaceful guardianship.
He climbed again to the summit of the temple and slipped into a small utility room, no bigger than a walk-in closet. Here stood nothing but a slender console with a simple read out. By appearances, it was nothing more than one of many control rooms that monitored functionality of the temple, but in reality, it was so much more.
Julian put his hand on the console and pulsed a command. Immediately, a series of numbe
rs appeared on the screen. To most, they were gibberish, but to Julian, they were the galaxy’s only hope.
Long ago, the architects of the mass migration knew the functionality of the temple would outlive the life of the Eidyn star. In response they engineered an automated mining operation on a planet rich in elements in a nearby uninhabited system. A self-sustaining factory would then use the mined minerals to build rockets that were launched periodically at the dying star to keep it from going out. A sensor deep beneath the temple monitored the axis and trajectory of the planet, sending information that would tell the machines when to launch a rocket.
Julian was in luck. Several rockets sat completed and awaiting launch. Quickly calculating the trajectory needed, he began typing in a series of commands that would send them not into the white dwarf, but on a collision course with the small, independently orbiting satellite that shared the Eidyssic star. By his calculations, the ensuing explosion would destabilize Ia’na Eidyn’s orbit and send it crashing into the star before the battalion knew anything was amiss.
His finger hovered over the line of command, double and triple checking lest he make a fatal mistake. When he was certain the math was correct, the diodes on his fingertips alit and he brought them down to issue the command. But just before he could execute what would be his final act as commander of the Limitless Battalion, a click echoed through the outer hall. Julian looked up, beyond the doorway of the small control room and froze.
The door to the archive, which had remained locked against his command, stood wide open.
The Needs of the Many Page 13
